


Insurmountable

by AParticularlyLargeBear



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-09-05 21:56:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16819231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AParticularlyLargeBear/pseuds/AParticularlyLargeBear
Summary: Downward spiral is a term young Protectorate hero Surpass is very familiar with, applying neatly to both her career trajectory and the direction of a post-Echidna world. In the wake of the emergence of two new Endbringers, that spiral seems to be approaching terminal velocity. Now faced with the challenge of rebuilding the decimated Protectorate SSW, Surpass sees the chance to dig herself out of her rut and perhaps decide what she's truly here for.An OC-centric, non-Brockton Bay fic set during the timeskip.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all.
> 
> I've had something cooking on the backburner for a lil while now and I thought I'd go ahead and share it, since I've had a few chapters in my stash for a while now.
> 
> Updates on the shorter side and probably modestly paced since I have a primary project to work on, but I hope y'all will enjoy following along regardless.  
> \--

Surpass leaned her head back against the wall of the Dragoncraft and closed her eyes. Low murmurs from the craft’s other occupants were barely audible over the hum of the engines, and it was easy enough to tune them out as they flew away from the citywide deathtrap of Bucharest. After five days Chevalier with backing from the Guild and what was left of Romania’s answer to the PRT had finally put an end to any further search and rescue inside the city. Too many capes and aid workers lost to Bohu’s parting gifts, the traps seeded so deeply and thoroughly that clearing them out would necessitate levelling buildings. The monument for this battle would need to be some distance from the city to ensure safety from the spike turrets and fire-spewing gargoyles.

Two Endbringers at once. As if Wave Asshole, Mindfuck Bird and Teleporting Motherfucker weren’t bad enough.

Surpass lifted her head forward, then dropped it back. A gentle thunk. Forward again. Back. Harder. Thunk. She pushed away her power as it crowded in at the edges of her consciousness, wanting to respond to the pain. _Forward. Back. Thunk._

_Forward—_

“Whoa! Easy easy!” Hands grabbed her around the shoulders, arrested the motion.

Her eyes snapped open. “Don’t fucking touch me!” She flung off the grip with her good arm. The man next to her recoiled, then held up both hands placatingly.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he soothed. “It’s over. You’re safe now.”

Surpass laughed in his face and twisted away, turning from those stupid concerned eyes. Safe? Of course she was safe. She was _always_ safe. Hell, she’d learned a new limit of what she could tank.

Just her, though.

“Sorry, I just wanted to check you were all right.”

Her fists clenched. She looked back to him. “You checked.”

The worry in his expression didn’t falter, plain even through the mask covering the top half of his face. Along with the rest of his costume, it had probably been blue-green before this last week stained it with smoke and blood. His hair might have been blonde, but was matted down and dirt streaked, much like his skin. Surpass knew she couldn’t look any better, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d showered.

“I know that what happened was tough—”

Surpass snatched a fistful of his costume and wrenched him almost out of his seat. She pushed her head against his, glaring directly into his eyes. “Listen, asshole. If I wanted you to play therapist for me, then I’d fucking ask. Fuck. Off.”

The craft was dead quiet now. Surpass felt every eye in the hold on her, burning with their attention. They could all fuck off too.

The cape in blue still didn’t sound nearly as contrite as she’d have liked. “Look, I know it’s been a difficult week—”

“Shut up,” Surpass snarled. “Just shut up.”

He started to say something else. Surpass headbutted him. He fell back with a spray of blood, and that was when the craft got a little crazy.

Thirty seconds later, she had three people pinning her to the floor and she was busting a gut laughing over how stupid all of it was. How hard was ‘leave this person who clearly doesn’t want to talk alone’? Like, holy shit dude, how did you just survive two Endbringers with those kinds of self-preservation instincts? How was someone like that still alive with so many others dead?

Her laughter subsided. It wasn’t that funny anyway.

The cape holding her right arm shifted his weight slightly and Surpass grunted in pain as it moved the limb. “Watch the fucking shoulder,” she growled.

“Rich, coming from someone who just broke a guy’s nose.” The guy’s voice was a deep bass. Surpass twisted herself and spat at him. He jerked back, but not in time to prevent himself catching it across the chest. “Christ. Fucking animal.”

“ _Please don’t antagonise Surpass any further, Claudius.”_ The synthetic voice seemed to come from the walls themselves. Dragon. “ _Surpass. Please refrain from any more violence aboard the Dragoncraft, or you’re going to find yourself with a very long swim back to the States._ ”

Surpass bit down on the first instinct, which was to tell her to fuck off. As much as she hated being ordered around, this was her house, and to be brutally honest Dragon had done more to fight the big threats than Surpass ever would. Hell, Surpass wouldn’t even have made it to Bucharest without hitching a ride with Dragon’s technology.

Never mind, now she was pissed off again.

“Tell these assholes to let go of me and we’ll see,” said Surpass.

Claudius barked out a humourless laugh. “Kid, you need more time to cool off before I even think of letting you go.”

Surpass managed to contort herself enough to meet his eyes, even as the angle sent more pain through her injured shoulder. Claudius was a big guy, swarthy and beardy. “Call me kid again. See what happens.”

He started to grin. Surpass started to reach for her power.

“ _Enough. Let her go, you three. Surpass, come up to the front of the ship. We’ll talk._ ”

Surpass blinked, taking a moment to process that. Dragon surely wasn’t aboard too? No, she had to mean a private conversation. Better be private. Surpass would punt the next mech she saw into the atmosphere if she found out she was being eavesdropped on.

The restraining grasps retracted and Surpass picked herself up, shooting Claudius a seething look en route to the hold door. The cape she’d hit had one hand clapped to his face and a girl fussing over him, and she gave Surpass a venomous glare. The other occupants simply studiously avoided looking at her. Alienating a room, her old friend. At Surpass’s touch, the door smoothly slid aside, revealing an uninhabited but cosy cockpit.

She flopped into what was probably the pilot’s chair, glanced over a set of controls that meant nothing to her, and then stared at the ceiling.

“Dragon.”

“ _Hello, Surpass. Thank you for not making that harder than it had to be._ ”

Surpass snorted. “Sure, whatever. Figured you wouldn’t want me punching through the walls.”

“ _I’d ordinarily consider my craft proof against punches, but I’ve aggregated your combat data. It’s probably within your capabilities._ ”

The machine voice wasn’t coming from a specific spot, so Surpass just glared where she was already looking and assumed Dragon would probably see it. “Stop trying to stroke my ego. I’ve heard it before.”

“ _It was a factual observation but okay._ ”

Surpass deflated slightly. She was used to people talking about her as if she was the next big thing, and she’d gone some way past being tired of it all the way through to hatred. Massive strength, durability and speed was a combination which got the media and the public drooling, and any cape which possessed them groomed for success. Right up until they got shunted off to a nowhere Protectorate department the second PR got worried. “I’m only up here because it got me away from all of them.”

“ _That’s fine. Honestly, I had the impression you needed space._ ”

“Whatever,” Surpass muttered.

It was a couple of minutes before the tinker spoke again, and when she did, it was with hesitance, choosing her words carefully. “ _I saw most of the battle via my tech. I’m sorry about your team. They were good people._ ”

A dozen answers came and went through Surpass’s head. Some angry, some raw, giving Dragon the brush-off, giving it to her with both barrels, asking what the hell she knew, demanding why the hell she hadn’t coordinated better. Admitting that when the tactics were in her own hands instead of Dragon’s and the other leaders, she’d chosen wrong.

“Yeah.” Surpass said at length.

Dragon didn’t speak again and Surpass sank down into the chair and closed her eyes. Some time passed, the cockpit silent, banks of clouds passing below.

“Dragon?” said Surpass.

“ _Yes?_ ”

“Thanks.”

“ _Don’t mention it._ ”


	2. Chapter 2

Linoleum tile squeaked underfoot as Surpass made her way through the entry hall of Protectorate SSW HQ, the lonely sound echoing off the walls. Other than the two-man security detail watching the front door, the building was completely devoid of personnel, quiet as a crypt. Halfway between the entrance and the set of doors leading to the facilities training areas, Surpass slowed to a halt. Routine was guiding her in that direction for her usual post op warm down. The same series of exercises she’d been harassing and browbeating the others to attend and slowly getting them to come around, one by one. Felt like so much wasted effort, now.

When was the last time she’d worked out solo?

A soft _ding_ signalled the arrival of the lobby elevator. The doors slid open, revealing a lean woman sharply dressed in suit pants, waistcoat and shirtsleeves. Her skin and white-blonde hair were almost as pale as her steely blue eyes, which locked onto Surpass from across the room as she advanced. Ugh. She didn’t have the energy for this right now.

The woman reached her and Surpass gave her a small nod. “Director Carlisle.”

Carlisle managed a tight smile. “Surpass. It’s good to see you.” Up close, her eyes were reddened and raw. Probably too many all-nighters trying to figure out how she was going to reassemble her decimated department. “I came as soon as I heard you were back.”

“Well, here I am,” said Surpass.

“We’ll do something for the team as soon as we can. They deserve a proper send-off.” Carlisle studied her for a moment, keen and discerning. “How are you holding up?”

“Everyone’s dead. How do you think?” Surpass didn’t quite snap back at her, but it wasn’t a ‘talking to your boss’ tone either.

“That wasn’t an attack, Surpass.”

Surpass managed to neither sigh nor swear, for which she felt she deserved at least two medals. “Did you need something, Director?”

Carlisle _did_ sigh. “I don’t need anything, Lisbet. I want to know that you’re _okay_. This isn’t something that people just walk off, not even capes.”

Surpass pointedly tugged her shemagh. “It’s Surpass.” She didn’t bother to stave off the growl.

“I don’t give a damn if you’re in costume, Surpass. You don’t stop being a person when you put that scarf on.”

“Are you ordering me to talk about it?”

Carlisle sighed again. “Of course not.”

“All right. Did you need something, Director?”

The narrowing of Carlisle’s eyes could be weaponised. “If you’re feeling up to it, there’s the state of the organisation to discuss.”

Fuck. Surpass had really wanted the chance to take a nap at least. Dragoncraft weren’t designed for sleeping comfort. Couldn’t exactly say that now though, not with Carlisle throwing down the gauntlet like that. She forced herself to stand up a little straighter, willing the fatigue away. “Sure. Where to?”

Carlise’s expression turned appraising. “It can wait until tomorrow.”

Jesus fucking christ she was going to lose her shit in a second. “I said where to.”

Surpass felt those eyes crawling all over her as the Director gave her a long look. “Come to my office,” Carlisle said finally.

She turned away towards the elevator. Surpass gave her retreating back the finger, then followed. They stood side by side, studiously not looking at one another, a silence which was thankfully short as they ascended to the second floor. Half a corridor later and Carlisle opened up a door, gesturing Surpass inside.

Carlisle’s office wasn’t large, but it was exceedingly well-ordered, neatly labelled filing cabinets lined against the walls, flanking the Director’s desk. The full ‘In’ tray atop the desk had reproduced, now boasting two counterparts, of which even the third was already most of the way to overflowing. Carlisle slipped in behind her and walked to the desk, leaning against one side. She gestured to the solitary chair in front of it.

“You’re welcome to have a seat.” Surpass regarded her, then spun the chair around and rested her hands on the back. Carlisle half smiled. “Okay then. How about we talk business?”

Finally. Surpass nodded.

Carlisle didn’t say anything for a moment, then took a long, steadying breath. “Right now we have a team of one, plus three wards. I don’t think it’s going to shock you to hear that needs to change.”

“Obviously.”

Carlisle paused. “Surpass? Given the circumstances, I’ve been willing to cut you a certain amount of slack. However, if you’ll allow me a brief moment of unprofessionalism; shut your damn mouth unless you have something productive to add. I do _not_ need you being smart with me.”

Weirdly, her boss’s show of emotion made Surpass feel a little better. She nodded again.

“We’ll be rushing Thornback’s graduation to the Protectorate. He’s been desperate to make the step up and it’s only a couple of months early. It leaves the Wards even shorter, but that’s a hit we’ll have to take.”

Even a year on from the revelations about the origins of C53s, the SSW Wards were still a complete shambles. The two ‘monster capes’ on the roster had immediately quit when Eidolon spilled the beans by proxy, and over the next few months it came out that another two of the Wards had bought powers from a bottle. They’d slunk off into the night. The Wards hadn’t recovered from that loss, only barely maintaining a roster at all as members graduated to the Protectorate.

“Can we still use them for patrols?”

“Limited hours for now,” said Carlisle. “They spent the last week covering as best they could for the team. Even if it wouldn’t get the Youth Guard sniffing around, they’re exhausted. They need a break.”

“All right. We getting anyone else?”

Carlisle shook her head. “Not immediately. Transfers take time and to be blunt, we’re not on the list of top cape destinations.” Surpass snorted. Carlisle narrowed her eyes, then finished. “It’s been negotiation after negotiation.”

“So I have Thornback and also Thornback. Great.”

“The _team_ has Thornback.”

Surpass straightened up and gave Carlisle a sharp look. “You’re gonna need to run that one by me again, Director.”

“It’s not your team, Surpass.”

“The hell it’s not! What, you putting Thornback in charge?”

Carlisle slowly stood up, locked eyes with Surpass. “You are _temporarily_ team captain, Surpass. That’s neither a promise nor a vote of confidence, it’s indicative that I have literally no choice. If you want the spot, then prove you deserve it.”

Surpass bit off her first instinctive response, then her second. “Fine,” she ground out. “I will.”

“Good. Otherwise, we’ve made overtures towards two of the rogues. Unsurprisingly, they wanted to meet with our capes before making any decisions.”

“Which rogues?”

Carlisle tilted her head back and met her eyes. “Thompson. Wetwork.”

“Fucking _Wetwork!?_ ”

“Yes _fucking_ Wetwork!” Carlisle snapped back, voice cold as ice. “We don’t have the luxury of choice, Surpass.”

Surpass put a hand to her face and squeezed. “Great. Let’s hire the Elite guys while we’re at it.”

“If we don’t act quickly, the rogues will _be_ Elite guys.”

Surpass’s anger froze over. “What?”

“They’re making moves, Surpass. They know we’re vulnerable.” Carlisle looked her up and down. “We’ll talk more tomorrow. Go get some sleep.”

Surpass nodded stiffly and with her heart in her boots, turned around and exited.

Like she was going to be able to anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for PTSD symptoms.

They held the PRT funeral two days after Surpass’s return. Seven dead heroes, seven empty caskets. Sombre faces and black suits, an honour guard of PRT agents, Director Carlisle heading up the procession, as stoic as a statue. They called on Surpass to say a few words and she waded through the speech, trite and sterile. They were her teammates. They were good people. They would be missed. Stock. Meaningless.

“Medimatic helped thousands of people, she was a hero and a doctor both.” _I didn’t even know she was dead until three days afterwards._

“Spendthrift wasn’t just a leader to this team, he was a mentor, too.” _He died choking on his own blood, impaled on six different spikes._

“Giftwrap was a bright light wherever she went, she’d want us all to stay strong for her.” _Do you know what charred human flesh smells like?_

Surpass ducked the reception and headed home for the first time since coming back to Phoenix. The medical staff had insisted she stay in SSW HQ’s infirmary as a precaution for her dislocated shoulder, clucking and fussing until she wanted to scream in their faces. So fucking what if she’d been ‘overexerting herself’ with the injury? She wasn’t going to sit in a triage feeling sorry for herself while other capes were out there saving lives.

She’d worn civvies under her costume, shorts and a tanktop, stowing her heroing outfit in a sports bag and taking off into the city streets. Even outside of cape guise, Liz felt eyes on her, double takes from people passing by on the sidewalks. A side benefit of her power was putting her in peak physical condition, better than Olympic levels. She was a walking wall of muscle; Liz hadn’t been bothered by the attention she drew for a long time. If it wasn’t for everything else on her mind, she probably even would have enjoyed it.

Not today though. Today wasn’t a day for crowds or admiring stares. She wanted off the street. She wanted to be in her own space. _Home_. Liz drew to a halt, took a long breath. Her shoulders shook for a moment. Eyes. So many eyes on her, thinking they were in on this big secret guessing she was a cape, thinking they knew her. Just like back on that stage, talking to a crowd who wanted to sample misery, luxuriate in the loss that didn’t truly affect them. There would always be more heroes. Talk in hushed tones about how terrible it was, admire Surpass for being so _strong_ , create another story in the lone survivor, inspiration from the tragedy.

She wasn’t a _fucking_ drama to be experienced.

Somebody spoke to her, voicing meaningless concern. Liz reflexively told them to fuck off.

Nobody was moving down here. Everything was in slow motion, all of these people in her way, shambling along the street in a mindless mass. Just move, just MOVE. She wanted to grab them, shake them, yell in their faces for being so goddamn slow why were they so _slow_.

Liz stopped, turning on her heel with such force she bodychecked someone coming the other way, knocking them down. Before they could even protest, Liz was entering the alleyway she’d halted by, opening her bag and pulling out her shemagh. On it went, and then she tapped into her power and with a split-second’s focus, selected speed. Vigour instantly coursed through her limbs and her perception sharpened until it seemed she could take in everything at a single glance.

Surpass looked up at the building in front of her, tensed her legs, then jumped at it. Her left foot touched brick, then her right, and then she was effortlessly running up the wall. In a few quick strides she reached the rooftop and crested it. For an instant she paused on the edge, balancing on one foot, and then she was tearing away across the roof, accelerating as she ran. The far side loomed up ahead of her and without faltering she leapt, easily clearing the distance to the next rooftop. She landed and didn’t even break stride, continuing on with her run as if she’d jumped a puddle rather than a building.

She made her way across town like that, roof to roof, at times jumping from a shorter structure straight at the wall of another, catching purchase with nothing more than her boots and enhanced speed, she simply ran up. Even dashing around like this, she wasn’t the slightest bit fatigued, breathing steady and even, one hand keeping her bag in place slung over her good shoulder. The injured one ached some, but she wasn’t a wimp, she could deal.

After a few minutes of parahuman parkour, Surpass reached her apartment building. It wasn’t too far from SSW HQ, but had enough distance to give her some breathing room. After basically rooming on-site back in Manhattan, she had no intention of ever subjecting herself to being a live-in Protectorate member. Running up the wall until she reached the third floor from the top, Surpass then dashed along, dancing above the windows and counting them off. Four, five, six--she tucked and rolled inward, sliding inside in a well-practiced motion. Surpass had probably entered her apartment via the window more often than the door.

Her lounge. Right how she’d left it. Same teetering laundry pile, same partially assembled shelves, same movie paused on the TV. That hit her like a big rig to the stomach, crushing every breath of air from her lungs. She stared at the screen for what felt like hours, silence blaring in her ears. After an interminable length of time, she reached up and tugged off the shemagh, dropping it out of existence. Her eyes stayed locked on the TV. Some stupid comedy movie with a PRT agent being demoted to sheriff for a country town. The action scenes were awful and the acting wooden enough it could be used for kindling. ‘They realised it sucked halfway through and doubled down, I kind of love them’, was how Shannon had put it.

Shannon. Giftwrap. The last time Liz spoke to her was to scream three inches from her face about being afraid of Endbringers. At the time, it was what she’d felt was needed to stop the whole team just breaking, keep them operational under the most extreme circumstances imaginable. Inspirational speeches weren’t going to snap the jaws of the deathtrap the city had become, so she’d fallen on tough love instead. Authority, decisiveness, being their leader, not their friend. She’d let them down as both.

Liz ran a trembling hand through her hair. She was cool. She was cool. There was nothing to be worried about. Whatever happened before was done now. She was cool.

Something acrid rose to the back of her throat and her hand shot up to her mouth. Liz convulsed and bile oozed out between her fingers. Her stomach roiled. Another wave of puke, splattering off her palm and dripping down her top, off onto the floor. Liz choked out a gasp and dropped to her knees, catching her balance on her hands. Her gut clenched as she hunched over and she retched, strings of phlegmy vomit spraying onto her chin. Liz took a shuddering breath, barely managed the wherewithal not to collapse into her own puke as she pressed her head against the carpet.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Breathe. Breathe. Her throat clenched, a gurgle in her stomach, then another burn of acid burst up into her mouth, then spluttered through her lips. Liz reached out, started to drag herself along by her forearms and elbows, scuffed forward with her knees. One in front of the other, bit by bit until the top of her head bumped softly against a door. She rested it there for a couple of seconds, then groped up, finding her way to the handle, dragging it down with her weight alone.

Inside, fumbling on tile now, Liz groped at nothing, put her palm against glass. She tried to pull it one way, no give, slid it aside the other, clawed her way over a small lip and into the shower. At the third attempt, she managed to engage the faucet.

Liz pulled her knees to her chest and let the water pour down over her.


	4. Chapter 4

Thornback’s swearing-in ceremony was quick and to the point. The necessary words were said, the requisite PR snaps were taken and the carefully vetted selection of questions answered. Complete in under fifteen minutes. Surpass could have navigated it in her sleep. She was a very weird combination of glad that it was out of the way with but frustrated that none of the reporters had mustered the balls to ask anything worthwhile. Surpass was spoiling for a fight; tearing into a journalist would have been a cathartic way to blow off some of that steam.

Though, maybe it was just as well. In the past the team’s media dynamic had set her up as Protectorate SSW’s hothead, allowing Surpass to freely express herself while the more PR-friendly members of the group acted as a counterweight. So long as she hadn’t said anything incredibly stupid or offensive, the relations guys had grudgingly left her to it. After all, it wasn’t their scripted soundbites that had sent Surpass interviews viral on the internet multiple times.

Except mouth off now and there was no safety net. It was the leader of a Protectorate team failing to handle the press. Sure, she had to prepend ‘provisional’ to the position constantly, and the PRT sure as hell weren’t letting her forget it, but she was de facto in charge. That meant watching what she said or giving Carlisle ammo in her argument for replacing her. The Director was just looking for an excuse, Surpass was sure of it. They’d never seen eye to eye, and Surpass had exchanged many more words with her boss over disciplinary than she ever had socially.

She’d do what she had to in order to keep her nose clean, and then when the chains come off, she’d start putting her own stamp on the team.

After extricating herself from both the press and the PRT troopers providing security, Surpass went and found Thornback. He was a hard person to miss, standing more than six-and-a-half feet tall when using his power, one of few people who Surpass had to look up to. Chitinous segments of shell overlapped with one another across his frame, each of them configured differently in a way which resembled parts of a machine rather than organic material. He hovered awkwardly outside the PRT building, halfway between the primary entrance and the adjacent doors to the Wards’ annex. The remaining two Wards had moved off ahead of him, talking quietly between themselves. 

“Thornback,” Surpass thumped him on one armour-plated shoulder. He barely moved. She’d need to use her strength if she wanted to budge his bulk. “You ready for this?”

“I thought so,” Thornback’s voice was much softer and higher-pitched than his frame would suggest. “Not so sure any more.”

“ _Be_ sure. We don’t have room for doubts.”

Thornback’s exoskeletal faceplate parted at the mouth, then closed with a click. Surpass eyed him. Helmets. She hated helmets. “Something to say?”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

“Spit it out. If we have a problem, I’d rather know now than have it fuck things up for us later.”

Thornback’s impassive mask regarded her. Surpass stared him down as best she could. Eventually his mouthpiece opened again. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Ask me again after your first couple of patrols.”

“I wasn’t talking about the caping, exactly.”

Surpass sighed heavily. “Be more specific then. I’m not in the mood to dance around.”

Thornback drew his hands to his chest, fists clacking together. “This is what I meant. Why do you keep biting my head off? If it’s something I’ve done, I’d just like to know so I can make up for it, or at least do better.”

For someone who was armour plated, he sure didn’t have very thick skin. “There are two of us, Thornback. Two for a department which covers basically the entire state, with reinforcements in a week if we’re lucky. Show some spine, and we’ll be good.”

Thornback didn’t say anything for several seconds. “Right.”

Surpass studied him for just a moment, then with a shrug, set off for the building entrance, beckoning Thornback to follow. He fell in line and they headed inside, moving past the pair of agents at the front door.

Words could not express how much she wanted to hit something right now. Her mandatory leave from patrols was about to expire, and between being shelved, the sterile PR and Carlisle’s briefings about how much slack the PRT were picking up for the capes, Surpass felt fit to explode. She was itching to get back out there; a show of force on the streets would go a hell of a lot further towards putting villains on notice than yet more meetings.

But here she was walking up to the circular desk island in HQ’s ground floor. The pair of secretaries were on duty for the first time since her return. One was public facing, tasked with handling media, gawkers and possible tours. The other was another PRT agent, tasked with internal organisation and directing any cape visitors.

“We’re heading to room two,” Surpass called to him, barely slowing for his acknowledgement before striding on by and through the set of doors leading to the conference and briefing areas. Wasn’t like they were going to be fucking occupied. She took the first door on the right, entering a bland room occupied only by a round table and a scattered handful of chairs, one of which she plonked herself down into. Thornback followed, settling in opposite.

“I want to talk about last week.”

Thornback shifted and straightened. “Really? I didn’t think you wanted to talk about—I mean, if you want to talk to me I’m happy to listen—”

“ _Not that._ ” Surpass growled. “What you were doing back here.”

“Oh.” That goddamn helmet was making him impossible to read. Surpass had never been good at pure body language. “It’s all in the report.”

“I’ve read the report, but that shit’s sterilised. I want it from you.”

He leaned back. “Surpass, I’m not even sure I remember most of it. I slept like three hours a night for a week. I can’t give you a blow by blow.”

Surpass paused. Thought about trying to recount her own experiences on search and rescue. Okay. She had a hard time arguing that one. “Just your impressions then. The bad guys and the Wards.”

Thornback hesitated. “You’ve patrolled with the other—I mean, the Wards.”

“Not in pressure situations. I want to know what they’re like under fire.” Him too, but Surpass figured she’d be able to get that information firsthand.

Eventually he nodded. “We fought BrightSide the most. Well, I say fought, two of them were scuffles and one they were already running. The third time was against all three. That was tough.”

“But didja win?” said Surpass, already grinning, beginning to raise one hand out to her right—

The world-weary rebuke didn’t come. Neither did the fist bump. Nor the giggle.

She couldn’t breathe.

“I think we—Surpass? Surpass, are you okay?”

Liz clenched her jaw, trying to will away the hot wetness stinging her eyes. Her chair clattered into nothingness behind her and without a word she walked out.


End file.
